Destitute

[Evonpire 2014]

 

Destitute

 

---

 

(Ruined Medieval City by Mikemars)

 

---

 

Spoiler

This post follows all the red lines of shunting; Planar Trasveral. The events described here are not common knowledge to anyone. The events described occur over a series of IRL days. Any names beyond Kybal's mentioned in the story have been redacted.
 

9. The Dump | The World of Lacking | Poverty and Trash - A plane ridden with the hallmarks of oppression, albeit by invisible forces. All resources are scarce, crime and poverty abound, and garbage heaps and trash piles litter the natural landscape. An adjacent plane to Sloopidoop

The Uruk blinked, opening his eyes. The sight before him was unfamiliar and completely alien. He looked down at the time, clutching it tightly as he closed it. Concurring, he would likely need this thing again to return home. Kybal’Akaal huffed, examining the surroundings, as he placed the tome in a leather satchel for safekeeping. He wondered what manner of artifact r̶̬͊t̵̼̅g̵̭̐w̸̛̭q̴̤̀g̴̝͠f̴͚͆w̸̜̑r̴̝͒, had given him.

The Akaal set off, his armour clanging; he was glad his belongings were kept with him. Kybal’Akaal would dare not trust this place; the air stunk, and it reminded him of a shara-goi, just… worse, well, even worse, in his mind. And thus he was treated it was the some distrust. He withdrew his weapon, a brutal maul and placed his helm upon his head. He assumed any life here would be immediately hostile, nor would he find any of Krug’s blood here. He kept his mace low; part of him wishes he'd brought a different weapon, though the Bulldraagh was more efficient, he entrusted with i̷̡͝o̵͙̒g̴͔̚r̸̺̂g̴͎̒k̶̙̑k̸̟͋. His maul, while deadly, was ill-suited for traveling on foot, which it seems was his only option. The unnatural heft of it drained his stamina. But he must persist regardless.

 

Kybal’Akaal searched for any signs of life. Surely, there must be other beings here…? While ruined and crumbling, this city was; there were still structures that stood, and theoretically, life could survive here…

 

His search that day was fruitless, and night came soon enough, and the Akaal sealed himself in one of the more intact houses and attempted to sleep, though he found himself waking up frequently out of paranoia and nightmares. 

 

It was clear that the Uruk was not welcome here.

 

 

---

(The Order 1886 Concept Design by Brandon Bien)

 

 

---

He turned a corner, meandering into an open courtyard. Still no sign of life beyond wrecked homes. Kybal’Akaal was disturbed by this place, truthfully. While the Uruk certainly repressed his anxieties and fears. He wondered what exactly happened to this place to cause such destruction. He remembers the coup of Grubnakh’Lak and his century-long exile. While he wasn’t present to see it, he heard on the wind the chaos following his departure. Kybal wondered if he had put his people through similar suffering. A tyrant, Kybal thought himself to be; he considered himself benevolent to his own people. He did not seek their suffering, even Grubnakh’s; he felt guilt that he exposed them to even a fraction of this. The rebellion had left him paranoid; truthfully, Kybal struggled to trust even his own kin at times.

 

His self-reflection was soon interrupted; he heard something that sounded like scurrying in a nearby alleyway. The Uruk veered his head to the sight of the sound. He saw only some loose objects being blown by the wind. Strange, the Uruk thought, the Uruk made way to follow the sound, perhaps against his better judgement. As he got closer to the source, he could hear clearly now; these were footsteps. There was indeed life here, Kybal was to pursue whatever this was. Stealth was an impossibility, the platemail was too noisy, and he figured calling upon Shezept to muffle his footsteps would be a waste of time; he wondered if the Ilzguli would even hear him in this place.

 

It was less of a chase, but more of a stalking of prey. He prayed that whatever he pursued would get tired themselves out or find itself in a dead-end. The Akaal had no intentions of harming whatever he was chasing, though he was self-aware enough to recognize that a fully-armoured Uruk brandishing a weapon was likely a terrifying sight to these people if the Urukhim did not exist here. As the chase continued Kybal got a glimpse of who he was following; it appeared to be a human from a distance. His clothes and appearance looked as ragged as the realm he found himself in, though armed, as the Akaal spotted the glint of a metal dagger.

 

The Uruk was stuck in this game of cat-and-mouse, it bored him. At the risk of losing his prey, he cried out to the Ilzguli, speaking the elder tongue. Locking his eyes upon the fleeing foe, lowering his chase to a light saunter to concentrate. Auric lightning danced across his digits as he channeled his energies. He finished his ritual, as the man stopped, as if grabbed by an invisible force, and began to scream. Truthfully, all Kybal had done was inflict a vision upon him, nothing cruel, but the people of this place were likely not familiar with Shamanistic magicks. Kybal managed to catch up to the man as he returned to reality. Kybal swung a blow at the man's legs, overshooting him and catching him with the shaft of the weapon, causing him to trip. Kybal struggled to follow the man's words, the language alien to him, he presumed the tone indicted some sort of pleading, becoming increasingly desperate.

 

The man reached for the dagger at his waist and withdrew it. Pointing to it as Kybal’s leg, his words becoming aggressive now, in self-defense. The man was no warrior; he looked ill, likely malnourished. He was no threat to the Uruk. But, there would be little honour in killing this man; he was not the equal of the Akaal. But Kybal would rather not see himself injured for no reason. Kybal swung down his mace towards the man’s blade; this was done not with the intention of intimidation. The man screamed some words and dropped his dagger in fear, and scurried away. Kybal knelt down and retrieved the weapon, pocketing it.

 

Night came again soon enough, and the Akaal found shelter again - there was an ever-growing feeling of paranoia as he remained in his realm longer.  He suffered from bad dreams again, unable to remain asleep for more than an hour or two at a time - he woke up sluggish, and he could not continue like this. If this worsens, even a group of poorly armed foes could kill him or seize the tome.
 

---

 

The Akaal continued to wander the realm, time passing since his encounter with the man. Each night that passed, he became more paranoid, and the hostility of the realm itself seemed to increase. Rare previously, predatory animals seemed to appear more often, as the realm was home to more than just man. Some days ago, he had repelled a pack of coyote-like creatures. While the Uruk was victorious, they had caused an injury to his leg. Birds randomly swooped down to attack his exposed head whenever he removed his helmet and oftentimes when he traveled he could swear he could see humanoid shapes moving in the shadows.

 

But, he persisted - he wished to discover more. Kybal, even in his advanced age, maintained his sense of curiosity. He observed the star patterns of this place, and he pondered how the Ilzpaak would work in such a place. Perhaps different spirits bless the people of this place; different constellations exist here after all. He knew now that the Spirits heard him here, so perhaps this was the case.

 

But it was clear that he was overstaying his welcome. One evening, Kybal found himself waking from his sleep. Which was not unusual, but he could hear murmurs from outside the home he barricaded himself in. There were six distinct voices, including the man he had chased sometime ago. They have been hunting him likely. Their words were alien to the Uruk, but their tone was clear: anger. While Kybal’s injuries had been healed by the grace of Akezo, his armour was damaged by the routine hostile encounters with the fauna. If they were to charge at him, he would likely be overwhelmed and perish here.

 

Kybal examined the house he had taken shelter in. He noticed a particularly thin wall; a good hit could break it. Allowing him egress from his shelter. He swiftly took hold of his maul from off the floor and swung at the wall. The rotten wood shattered instantaneously from the impact. The Uruk crawled out of the hole into an alleyway, sprinting. He continued to hear the shouting still for some time. He continued his escape until all he could hear was the ambience.

 

He must leave now. If he were to remain, this would become an increasingly common situation, he figured. Word had likely spread of Kybal’s presence by now, and mightier foes might be attracted to him. Likewise he own supply of food had begun to dwindle, weakening the Uruk further. He withdrew the tome and spoke the words from it again, disappearing in a flash of auric lightning, returning to the realm he was familiar with.

 

---

 

Spoiler

OOC
This was a touch overdue - but I fear creative writing posts are something I rarely do, and are not something that I feel is a strength of mine. So I never know how to start these things.